


Welcome Back

by Katie (katieandsav)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, katie's shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieandsav/pseuds/Katie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finally agreed to let Gabriel stay in the bunker until he gets back on his feet—under one condition: Sam cannot, under any circumstances, find out that Gabriel's alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Back

Gabriel slumped back into the couch’s cushions, looking up at the ceiling. “Christ, Deano,” he said exasperatedly. “You’re overreacting. Sam’s not gonna have a mental breakdown if he sees me, okay?”

“Oh, no,” Dean replied, his voice sharp and firm. “Don’t even try, Gabriel. You can stick around until you get back on your feet or whatever, but if you go anywhere near Sam, I’ll skin you. Got it? He’s too fragile. He doesn’t need this right now.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, making a gabbing motion with his hand. “Okay, okay, fine. I concede. Put the sword away, el tigre. I’ll keep away from the Samsquatch, s’long as you stop getting all up-in-arms the moment I say his name.”

“Listen, asshole, I’m doing you a nicety by letting you stay here. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“I promise I’ll be the best guest you ever had,” drawled Gabriel as he propped his feet up on the coffee table. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“Better not,” Dean growled. “The moment you hear Sam—or anyone else that ain’t me—you vamoose. Capisce?”

“Capisco, Al Capone. Clear as a bell.”

“Smartass,” Dean muttered, turning away. He raked a hand through his overly-gelled spikes of blonde hair and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m helping you.”

“You’re a good person, Deano,” crooned Gabriel. “Your true colours are finally shining through that butch, dumb-as-a-post façade you got going on. Next thing you know, you’ll’ve given up the copious amounts of alcohol you consume on a daily basis to pursue a life of chastity and goodwill instead.”

“Go fuck yourself, asshat.”

“While you’re still here? Never knew you were into voyeurism, Deano.” Gabriel yawned and stretched out, shutting his eyes. “Mind skedaddling? I haven’t slept since 2005. A little shut-eye would be nice.”

He heard Dean take a breath, like he was going to speak, but then he seemed to think better of it. As he left, Gabriel heard the hunter mumble a, “Don’t slip up” directed at him.

He smirked sleepily. Gabriel never “slipped up”; anything he did that could be regarded as a mistake was simply an unintended plan.

* * *

 

The next few months were uneventful. Gabriel, for once, obliged with Dean’s wishes and kept out the way. In fact, for the first few weeks, he even avoided Sam entirely. After a while, though, this became tiresome, so he simply resorted to making himself invisible whenever he heard the younger Winchester approaching.

Although he was always careful to mask his Grace, he couldn’t help but wonder if Castiel could sense him. It wasn’t as if Cas blatantly stated, “There’s an archangel living in the bunker”, but sometimes the younger angel would look up and frown in Gabriel’s direction, as if he could sense something just on the periphery of his sight but couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

After a while, Gabriel started getting bored, resulting in his decision to help the brothers on their hunts. Well, help Sam. He didn’t give a shit about Dean.

This decision occurred one evening while Dean was out having meaningless sex or doing whatever he did when he wasn’t crying manly tears and/or angsting. Sam was left alone at the bunker, researching whatever they were hunting.

Gabriel, invisible as always, sat in the chair beside Sam’s, peering over his shoulder at the screen. “Really, Sammy?” he asked flatly, even though Sam couldn’t hear him. “You think it’s a freakin’ _warlock_?”

Sam massaged his temples. “Nothing’s matching,” he muttered tiredly, clicking open another page.

“Because it ain’t a warlock, genius.”

“Sex, disease, death. Same cycle, over and over.” He leaned back in his chair. “Maybe it’s not even a monster at all. Maybe there’s some illness going around and the sex is just a coincidence.”

Gabriel shot him a disgusted look. “Are you kidding me? This ain’t a coincidence, Sammo. It’s a _succubus_. What are you, a newbie at this?”

Sam, of course, did not respond. With a sigh, he got to his feet and wandered off to the kitchen. Gabriel crinkled his nose at him, then grabbed the laptop and quickly searched a page on succubi. Once he’d found a suitable link, he copied and pasted it into a Word document with a note attached:

_You’re a dumbass.  
-G_

Just as he finished typing, the sounded of Sam’s heavy footsteps reverberated around the room. Gabriel put the laptop back where it was and crossed his arms, watching Sam.

The hunter, now sipping from a mug of coffee, eased himself back into his chair and tapped the computer to light up the screen again. At first, he didn’t seem to notice anything. Then he blinked and leaned forward, staring at the message. With careful trepidation, he opened the link and scanned the information that appeared before him.

“This is it!” Sam exclaimed after a moment. “This is what we’re hunting!”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Gabriel said.

* * *

 

The next morning, when Dean finally arrived home, Sam announced his findings with almost childish pride. Gabriel watched from the couch, amused.

“...pretty much like a normal demon. All there is to it is a quick aura-cleansing exorcism and then we can move onto that thing in Iowa,” Sam finished off, almost grinning.

Dean mustered a smile through the hangover he obviously had as he collapsed on the couch adjacent to Gabriel’s. Gabriel noticed a couple purple bruises along Dean’s collarbone and had to hold back a gag. What a skank. “Nice going, Sammy. How’d you figure it out anyway? Not even Dad’s dealt with one of these mothers,” Dean said.

Sam shrugged. “I dunno, man. I went to the kitchen to get some coffee and when I came back, there was a message with a link to a page about succubi attached—” He broke off, as if he’d just realised he shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“A message?” Dean asked slowly, sitting up. His low voice was deceptively nonchalant. “Was it signed?”

“Uh, yeah. It was, uh, signed from someone named ‘G’.”

Something flashed in Dean’s green eyes. “Huh. Well, thanks, G, whoever you are. Hey, Sammy, d’you mind doing a beer run? We’re out.”

“Why can’t you—” Sam started to protest.

“Because I have a hangover from hell. Now scram,” Dean replied, tossing a pillow at him. Sam ducked, shooting his older brother a resentful look, then walked out.

 _Oh, shit!_ Gabriel thought, tensing, as Dean’s smile faded. Dean scrambled to his feet, whirling around.

“Where are you, ya little fucker?” he shouted. “I know you’re in here!”

Gabriel allowed himself to materialize on the couch. “Swearing isn’t ladylike, Dean. Neither is shouting—”

His halfhearted reprimand was cut off when Dean pretty much _flew_ at him like some psychopathic squirrel and continued his yelling, except now right in Gabriel’s face. “I told you to stay away from him!” Dean snarled. “You had one job— _one job, you little shit_ —and you fucked that up second to none!”

“Whoops?” Gabriel offered. He tried to lean away from Dean; the close proximity of their faces was making him go slightly cross-eyed.

“Damn right, fucking _whoops_!”

“Deano, you should probably ease up on the swearing.”

Dean went still. Then he slowly got up off Gabriel and stepped back. “Get out.”

“Huh?” said Gabriel, startled.

“Get outta my sight. I only had one condition about you staying here and that was that you didn’t go near Sam. But you did. So, get out.” Dean smiled and crossed his arms.

Gabriel sat up. “C’mon, Dean, be reasonable. I didn’t do some big reveal or anything. I just helped you with a hunt! Which you damn well needed, might I add. Sam still thought it was a warlock until I stepped in.”

“Yeah? And who d’ya suspect Sam’s gonna think G is, dumbass?”

“That Garth kid you’re always talking about?” supplied Gabriel.

Dean exhaled slowly. “And if Sam tries to send him a message to say thanks?”

“From what I’ve heard, this Garth ain’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier. He’ll probably just say ‘no problem!’ and move on with his life.”

Dean shut his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he growled.

“Doing what, Deano?” Gabriel asked with a self-satisfied smirk because he already knew the answer.

“Letting you stay. Just. Don’t try any more shit, okay? You can interfere, I guess, but only when it’s necessary. Got it?”

Gabriel beamed at him. “Got it.”

* * *

 

Of course, almost every day after that point had saw an event that Gabriel deemed worthy of his interference. Sometimes, it was a hunt. Other times, Sam’s favourite sandwich spread had run out.

After the first week, it was obvious that Sam knew full-well that Garth was not the person who would leave him surprise salads whenever he was having a bad day. For the most part, Sam seemed to keep his little gifts from Gabriel—which always had a little note signed by G attached—a secret, for every time he mentioned one to Dean, the older Winchester would clam up and be in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

It was pretty nice, Gabriel had to admit. Sam had seemed to place his trust in the mysterious G and would often tell him what was on his mind. He’d always start with, “So, I know you’re probably not here, G, but…”, which Gabriel thought was pretty adorable since he was always there to listen when Sam spoke.

The one-hundred-and-fortieth time Sam started speaking to Gabriel was the evening of one of the not-good days. Since early that morning, Sam had seemed anxious and ill at ease; Gabriel had left him a salad but Sam had only picked at it out of what seemed more like obligation than enjoyment.

Sam paced around his room restlessly. “I know you’re probably not here, G, but if you are, I need to ask you something.”

Gabriel sat on Sam’s bed, cross-legged. “What’s up, Samster?” he asked.

Sam inhaled, staring at himself in the mirror. “Okay, assuming you’re here, I’m going to ask you to show yourself.”

“No can do, kiddo.” Gabriel actually felt guilty as he watched Sam wait for a couple minutes, swallow, then sigh.

“Goddammit,” Sam mumbled. “You’re probably not even in the bunker.”

“I’m right here,” promised Gabriel quietly.

“This was a stupid idea.” Sam clenched his jaw and turned away from the mirror. As he did so, he accidentally knocked a pile of books over. He jumped at the bang. “Shit!” he exclaimed, whirling around and kicking one of the books.

Gabriel jolted, staring at Sam. “Sammy—”

“Shit!” Sam said again, kicking another book. He did this three more times before he shoved a lamp off the little nook in the wall where it sat; it crashed to the ground with an unholy sound as the plug was ripped from the wall.

Without thinking, Gabriel darted forward and grabbed Sam’s wrists before he could break anything else. “Calm down, kid!” Gabriel said, realising just too late that he’d revealed himself.

Sam tensed for a moment, then went still as he looked down at Gabriel. His hazel eyes went wide.

“Oh—Oh, _crap_ ,” Gabe said, jumping back. “You didn’t see that. I was never here.” But before he could make himself invisible, Sam had said his name.

“Gabriel?”

“Hiya, Samster,” Gabriel said, backing away slowly.

“You’re _alive_?” Sam said.

“Surprise. Look, uh, if you want the whole story, you should ask Dean because I _really_ gotta g—”

Now Sam was walking up to him. “And you’re G?”

“Er,” was Gabriel’s only response. He wanted to poof right out of there, but something about the intensity with which Sam was staring him down kept him frozen in place. Now, Sam was right in front of him. Gabriel looked up at the Winchester with what he was ashamed to admit was nervousness. “You okay there, moose?” he asked, but was cut off when Sam took Gabriel’s face in his hands and leaned down so close that their noses were almost touching.

“You,” Sam said, his voice quiet and shaky, “are an absolute _asshole_.”

“You only figured that out now?” Gabriel asked thinly, barely able to think straight because Dean had said this was going to happen. Dean had said Sam would break if he saw Gabriel, and now Sam _had_ seen Gabriel which meant that _Sam was going to break_. He had to get out of there. Maybe he could convince Sam that it had just been a dream by continuing the little gifts like nothing had happened. Maybe he’d stop them entirely.

But before Gabriel could come to a decision, Sam had pulled the archangel’s face up to his own and was kissing him, hard, on the lips. Gabriel released a surprised sound, hands hovering uselessly for a moment before he slung his arms around Sam’s neck.

“You’re a complete and utter asshole,” Sam continued between kisses, “and I’ve missed you so—damn—much.” He spun Gabriel around and pressed him against the wall, lifting him off the ground so Gabriel had to wrap his legs around the hunter’s waist.

The scent of Sam was completely overwhelming as the hunter pressed even closer to Gabriel. He smelled of books combined with leather from the Impala and some delicious scent that Gabriel couldn’t place; it was spicy, that he knew, and warm.

Gabriel barely kept up in the kiss. When he started falling behind, he slowly pulled back to look at Sam. They were both still for a moment, breathing hard. Sam’s face was flushed, his lips kissed pink and swollen. “Well,” Gabriel said breathlessly, “that sure was an exciting welcome back.” A second later, he registered the expression on Sam’s face. It was anger.

“Do you know how many times I prayed to you after you’d died?” Sam asked, his voice dangerously low. “Do you know how many times I begged you to come back?” Now, his voice was growing louder. “And now you’re just suddenly _here_?”

“I’ve been here over a year, Samsquatch. Almost two. I didn’t talk to you for the first couple of months, but I’ve still been here.”

Sam inhaled sharply and stepped back, allowing Gabriel to drop down onto his feet again. “Do you have any _concept,_ ” Sam said, “of what it felt like to lose you before I could—”

He broke off.

“Before you could what, Sammy?” Gabriel asked measuredly.

Sam looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then shut his eyes. “Before I could tell you I love you, you dipshit.”

Gabriel suddenly went very silent.

 

 


End file.
